


Warm Gestures

by azhdarchidaen



Category: Hilda (Cartoon)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Solving Said Problems With Hot Cocoa, Tiny Elf Problems, listen I'm a biology major and I'll apply Bergmann's Rule as I wish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:11:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azhdarchidaen/pseuds/azhdarchidaen
Summary: When a massive snowstorm hits Trolberg, it proves to be a bit of a challenge for its residents -- large and small -- to stay warm. Hilda is determined to make sure that all her friends weather the storm in maximum coziness, but sometimes, even the best of intentions can accidentally make things worse if you aren't careful. But fortunately, there are ways to fix things, and with good friends at your side they aren't too difficult to find.





	Warm Gestures

“ _Psst, Hilda!”_

There were a trio of taps in quick succession on Hilda’s shoulder by what felt like the eraser-ed end of a pencil, causing her to look up from the troll she was doodling in the margins of her science notebook.

Well, technically she’d finished the troll. But it still looked like it would be happier if she added a jaunty hat.

She turned her head in the direction of the taps to see Frida, gesturing subtly with her head to the front of the classroom. When Hilda followed the line of sight she was indicating with her own gaze, she quickly understood the motivation behind the taps. At the front of the classroom, Ms. Hallgrim was drumming her fingers on crossed arms, and looking at Hilda expectantly.

“Thank you for joining the rest of the class, Hilda,” she said. “Now, can you answer my question?"

A nervous laugh escaped her before she cleared her throat. “Do you think you could repeat it?”

Her teacher sighed, then asked. “Why do you think it is that animals tend to be larger in cold climates, and smaller in warm ones?”

“Hang on, they do?”

Exasperated, Ms. Hallgrim pointed to another student behind her. “Erik? Could you perhaps jog her memory?”

“It helps ‘em stay warmer,” the boy behind her said.

“It does?”

“And what are some adaptations,” Ms. Hallgrim continued, “that smaller animals tend to have if they _do_ live in colder climates -- David?”

“Um, sometimes they get really round?”

“They do?”

“And does anyone know why that is? Yes, Frida?”

“It’s got to do with their mass and surface area -- if you’ve got more mass, and less surface area, you can conserve warmth better. Round things are able to maximize their mass and produce more warmth, while simultaneously allowing less warmth to escape than something less efficiently-shaped. And they also store up lots of fat.”

“But would--”

“Hilda, will you _please_ stop interrupting!”

“Sorry, Ms. Hallgrim.”

Hilda sat in silence for a moment, but it wasn’t a very long one. At all. Soon, her hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Hilda?” her teacher asked, sighing once more.

“Would I get cold very easily then If I were _really_ tiny? And _not_ round, just a very tiny person? Who doesn’t exactly store up fat, either? Perhaps if I was shrunk down to a very, very small height, such as being, I don’t know… three and seven-eights inches tall?”

Ms. Hallgrim blinked, then spoke slowly. “That’s very specific, Hilda.”

“But _would_ I get cold?”

“I imagine you might, yes. I can’t say I know for certain, of course, because there isn’t actually anyone that tall to have to worry about.”

Hilda opened her mouth again, almost spoke, and then thought better of it.

Almost as if the school agreed with her, the bell that signaled the end of classes for the day picked that same minute to ring out, causing an instant shuffle of students, papers, and backpacks as everyone made their bid for freedom at once. Carefully shutting the front of her notebook (so as not to risk the troll getting crumpled before she could finish their hat) and cramming it into her own bag Hilda wasted no time in joining them.

“Remember to keep an eye on the weather reports!” her teacher called out in the scuffle. “If -- though I’ll emphasize _if_ \-- we get as much as they’re forecasting, there could be a snow day tomorrow. Be careful, though, it’s cold regardless.”

 

***

 

“What’s a snow day?”

Hilda decided to ask her friends something she was now curious about as they headed away from the school. She, David, and Frida had a stretch of several blocks to walk together before they had to split off in different directions to get to their respective houses. She pulled her scarf a little tighter around her neck, noting that it was far chillier leaving school than it had been arriving in the morning.

“It’s when they cancel school because there’s too much snow,” David said. “Or because it’s too cold, or both when the weather is _really_ bad.”

“They do that?”

“Only when they think it’s not safe,” Frida said. “But Hilda, those questions you asked in class -- are you worried about Alfur?”

She threw her hands up in the air with more than their fair share of dramatics. “Of _course_ I’m worried about Alfur. How was I supposed to know that small creatures get cold faster, especially if they’re not round enough?”

“I mean, Alfur’s sort of round,” David chimed in.

“Mostly just his head,” Hilda said. “His little arms and legs aren’t round at all!”

“You can always ask him if he’s cold, you know,” Frida said.

“But what if that’s impolite?” Hilda asked. “Elves do seem to get sort of huffy when you talk about how little they are. If I ask if he’s cold and if it's because he’s so small, he might get offended!”

Frida raised one eyebrow. “So you’re going to keep him warm in secret? Wouldn’t he need to know?”

“Maybe I could anonymously leave him some tiny warm clothing,” Hilda said, mostly talking to herself. “Or a hat! -- Wait, he already has a hat.”

“I suppose you can leave out a warmed-up hot water bottle and see if he wants to curl up with it?” Frida suggested. “Or something else like that.”

Tapping a finger to her chin, Hilda repressed a little bubble of frustration. “If we could just have a fire here, like back at our cabin, that’d be good for keeping him toasty. All he’d have to do is sit in front of it.”

“Have you tried feeding him more?” David suggested. Both girls stopped mid-step to look at him.

“What?” he asked them, raising both arms in a universally quizzical gesture. “It’d help him get rounder.”

“I think you’re a little hung up on roundness, David,” Frida sighed.

“No, no, these are all good ideas,” Hilda said. “Or at least, I don’t think they’re bad ones. Yet.”

“Oh, also, this is my block,” David said, pointing left down a street that was a bit snowier and less-thoroughly plowed than the main one the children were walking along. “But if we _do_ have a snow day tomorrow, would you like to come over? We can make hot cocoa, I know we have _lots_ of marshmallows.”

“Of course!” Frida said -- at the same time Hilda said “Perfect! We can keep plotting Operation: Warm Elf.”

“Great! Let’s hope it snows a lot, then,” he said, before trotting down the street.

“David, be careful! It’s--”

The girls watched their friend skid dramatically on a patch of snow that must have been covering up some ice, flail his arms in the air, and tumble into a nearby pile of fluffy white.

“--icy,” Frida finished. A hand popped out of the snow drift, in the form of a thumbs-up.

“At least he’s close to home,” Hilda pointed out. “ _And_ he had a soft landing.”

“Listen, Hilda,” Frida said as they started walking again. “I think you’re very kind to be worried about Alfur, and I also think you might be right -- I’m sure I’d get awfully chilly if I was elf-sized. But you don’t have to make this a whole production. You can always just ask him if there’s anything he needs. I’m sure he’ll tell you, especially if you let him know that you’re worried.”

“I’d rather do nice things for him and be sure he thinks they’re nice than accidentally make him upset about them,” she said.

“Well, why don’t you at least watch him tonight and see if he’s acting like he’s cold? It might be as easy as confirming itn, and just asking your mum to turn up the furnace.”

Hilda put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “That’s very practical, Frida, but if I notice he’s cold I don’t intend to do things by halves.”

“Then at _least_ don’t try to do them by too many wholes,” she replied. “If you’re trying to do something nice for him, you don’t want it getting out of hand.”

“Well, fortunately, I _have_ hands,” Hilda said, wriggling her gloved fingers around like truly excitable worms.

“...What?”

“Oh, that’s right. Elf humor.”

 

***

 

Hilda was very careful to dust her boots off on the doormat as she entered the flat, leaving them by the entrance so as to be sure not to track any snow inside. When the door clicked shut behind her, she was able to hear her mother call out from the next room, where she was likely at her drawing table.

“Hilda, is that you?”

“Yes, Mum!” she replied.

“Oh, good -- do you have any thoughts on what you’d like for dinner tonight?”

“One second!”

She raced into the room where her mother was working, looked around surreptitiously, and then whispered, with a hand cupped to her mouth “Is Alfur around?”

“I don’t think so,” her mother said, seeming a bit confused. “Though it can be awfully hard to tell sometimes. Why do you ask?”

“You should make something nice and warm, like soup, then, since it’s supposed to be so cold.”

“It already _is_ awfully cold,” her mother said. “I think that sounds like a nice idea. But what does it have to do with Alfur?”

“Did you know that tiny things get cold more easily, Mum? We learned about it today at school.”

“No, actually, but I suppose it does make sense -- are you worried that the cold weather is getting to him?”

“He’s so small! I’m sure it is!”

“Then can you tell me why we’re whispering about soup?”

Hilda dropped the whisper, but her voice stayed at a fairly low volume. “Because I want to surprise him by helping him be warm this week!”

“Does it have to be a surprise?” her mother asked. “I’m sure we could do it outright as well.”

“Mum!” Hilda said, “Why am I the only one that thinks it might be rude to tell him we want to help him because he’s so small?”

“Hmm,” she said, “I suppose when you put it that way… still, I’m not sure how much we can do without tipping him off. Particularly once he picks up on us trying to be extra helpful.”

“Can’t we at least try?” she said.

“Hello!” came a pitched-up, familiar voice from slightly across the room. “Try what?”

Both Hilda and her mother jumped -- not so much from volume, as it was as muted in capacity as ever, but in the same way that a child sneaking their hand into the cookie jar will jump when a guardian walks into the room and witnesses the scene, even if they do so silently, due to in inescapable admission of being caught.

“Oh, hello Alfur,” her mother said. She put a hand behind her head and rubbed her hair awkwardly. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here!” he said cheerfully. “Though I’d expect you remember that. I heard Hilda come home from school. What is it that we’re trying?”

“Soup!” Hilda blurted out, laughing nervously. “We’re trying a new soup for dinner!”

“Oh, that sounds excellent!” he said. “I’ll try to finish up my latest report before we eat. Just wanted to come say ‘Hello!’ in the moment. See you in a bit, then!”

The two of them watched as their tiniest housemate sprang off, presumably to Hilda’s room -- and by extension his own -- where he stored his seemingly endless supply of tiny papers. When they were both certain he was gone, they turned back to each other.

“Hilda,” her mother sighed. “Now I have to look up a new soup recipe to try.”

“I’m sure that won’t be hard, Mum!” she said.

“I suppose, but I also hope we have the ingredients for one.”

“Do you want me to help with it?” she asked -- it was a very genuine offer, of course, and one she might have made anyways, but additionally nice was the easy segue in her first chance to really get started on her friend-warming-up scheme.

“That would be very nice of you, actually. Shall we get started?”

 

***

 

“Looks like there’s supposed to be a pretty big storm tonight,” Hilda’s mother said at dinner that evening.

The two of them had settled on making 44-clove garlic soup, in part because they still didn’t know what to do with all the bulbs of it in the house. Which was Hilda’s fault, technically, she supposed -- she’d panicked at the last farmer’s market of the season, worried that they might be baby Vittra, and convinced her mother it was critical they buy out the stall -- but it had been an attempt to do a good deed and so it was nice that something so tasty had come of it.

“David and Frida think there’s going to be a snow day tomorrow,” Hilda said, gesturing excitedly with her spoon.

“What’s a snow day?” Alfur asked. He’d joined them right as they were sitting down to eat, and had settled down on the table to drink his own soup dutifully from one of the thimbles they kept in the kitchen for him to use as dishware.

“That’s what _I_ asked,” Hilda said. “I figured all days with snow ought to count as snow days. But I guess those are just snowy days. A snow day is when it’s so snowy, they have to cancel school, because people can’t get anywhere.”

“I’d have thought that would never be a problem for people your size!” he said.

“Do elves have to have lots of snow days, Alfur?” she asked him.

“We tend to dig little tunnels to get around in the snow, actually.”

“Is _that_ why my foot would fall through hollow snow out in front of the old house so often?” Hilda’s mother said. “When I was trying to dig the car out?”

“Yes, it was a real problem!” Alfur said.

“Have you dug any little tunnels here?” Hilda asked curiously.

Alfur shook his head. “No, I’m not really the heavy lifting sort myself. Besides, I haven’t really been outside in a little while -- winter seems very different here in Trolberg!”

“I _know!_ ” Hilda said, pounding a fist -- and her spoon along with it -- into the table.

Alfur jumped a little at the clatter, the shaking of the table jostling him around a fair bit, and her mother lifted her soup bowl to clutch it tightly, clearly nervous about any of it sloshing out.

“Hilda--”

“It’s like no one here understands that a fire will keep you _much_ more toasty than radiators do,” she continued indignantly. “Don’t they want to stay warm?”

“I think the problem is more that it’d be hard to get so much wood into town,” her mother said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “There’s so many people here -- you’d have to chop down a _lot_ of trees.”

Contemplative for a moment, Hilda twisted her lip in an acceptant gesture.

“I do like trees,” she said. “I guess I’m glad that they won’t all get cut down. But I’d still rather have a fire.”

Grumpily, she put another spoonful of soup in her mouth.

“You’re certainly right that a fireplace the size of the one in your old place would do a lot of good,” Alfur said, finishing a sip of his own soup. “I imagine it kept you _very_ warm when it was cold.”

Swallowing, Hilda rushed to interject.

“So you’re saying it’d be good to be that warm here?” she said, hoping the leading question might give her more clues as to just how chilly Alfur was getting this winter. “That it’s too cold right now?”

Alfur set down his thimble to hold his hands up and wave them both in a disarming gesture as her closed his eyes momentarily. “I would _never_ think to complain like that,” he said, sounding a bit sheepish.

Hilda and her mother exchanged glances, clearly both noting the lack of a clear “Yes” or “No” admission to her question. Sometimes Hilda wished her friend wasn’t so polite all the time -- it would make him a lot easier to understand, at the very least.

 

***

 

When Hilda woke up the next morning, she instinctively pulled her quilt up to her chin and shivered. On closer inspection, little puffs of condensation snuck out when she breathed, and when she poked a hand out of her blankets experimentally, the chill was palpable.

The temptation to stay curled up in bed was even stronger than usual, but Hilda took a deep breath, counted to three in her head, and threw all the covers off at once, running to the closet to rip a warm sweater off its hanger and shave as much time off her morning routine as possible, before dashing off to get an explanation for the flat having been plunged into temperatures that even a snowstorm shouldn’t have been able to cause.

“Mum!” she called when she spotted her mother on the phone in the kitchen. “Do you know why it’s so cold inside? Is it supernaturally freezing? It is weather spirits? Ice giants? A really big--”

Holding a finger up to her lips, her mother, who was wearing her winter hat and lighter coat despite being indoors, softly shushed her. She then spoke to whoever was on the other end of the call.

“I understand completely,” she said. “Hopefully it’ll be easier to get people out soon, but in the meantime, I’m sure we can manage. Thank you for your hard work already.”

A moment’s more pause, and she set down the phone on its register, crossing her arms and drumming her fingers along one of them in frustration.

“Well, the good news is, you got your snow day,” she said. “But I’m afraid the bad news isn’t anything as exciting as you’d like -- our place is just so old that the heating’s out. I thought I’d let you sleep in, since you didn’t need to be at school and it was probably a lot warmer under your blankets.”

“Can’t we fix it, Mum?” Hilda said. She knew her mother was fairly handy around the house -- she’d had to be, living out in the wilderness with no one else to help.

“If it were something simple, like relighting the pilot light, I might be able to give it a go,” she said. “But I already had a look and it seems like the weight of all the snow might’ve caused some important things in the basement to crumble, and I just don’t feel confident trying to do the repair myself. It’s much better to be safe with these things, even if it means things are going to be a bit nippy today.”

“Isn’t there someone else who can, then?”

“I’ve already called the people responsible for maintenance on it and they’ve said they’ll send someone as soon as they can,” she said. “Unfortunately a lot of other people are having problems, and the roads are pretty bad, especially since it’s still snowing. They should be able to do something, but it might be a little while.”

“Is it alright if I head over to David’s then?” Hilda said. “I know it’s snowy, but we talked about hanging out there if school was cancelled. I’ve been invited and everything. And it’ll probably be a lot warmer over there.”

“I suppose,” her mother said, looking anxiously out the window at the still-falling snow. “But be careful -- it’s _very_ cold out, and I have to wait here in case any maintenance people come, so I can’t drive you, unfortunately. David doesn’t live too far away, but I still want you bundled up, even for a short walk.”

“Trust me,” Hilda said. “I am _so_ bundled.”

It was true, too. She’d already snatched her winter-iest coat from the closet and started pulling it on while they were talking.

“Don’t slip on any ice!” her mother said as she noticed her racing towards the door. “And Hilda, weren’t you worried--”

“Can’t stall for long, Mum!” she called after her. A gust of cold wind hit her square in the face as she opened the front door. “There’s important business to attend to!”

And with the door shut behind her, she dashed out into the snow.

 

***

 

“This cocoa is really excellent,” Hilda said.

She took another long sip from her mug, then adjusted her cross-legged position slightly, settling into the soft carpet of David’s bedroom floor where she, David, and Frida were sitting. She wriggled her toes, which were still warming up from the tromp over, in her thickly-knit socks, taking in the coziness of the scene

“Isn’t it?” David said brightly. “My mum is the _best_ at cocoa.”

“Let’s put cocoa down on the list of warm things that might be nice for Alfur,” Hilda said.

Frida, who had a notebook open in front of her already, nodded, writing it down at the top of a bulleted list that thus far only had a title -- “Ways to Warm Up Our Elf Friend”

“I’m also going to put down the hot water bottle idea,” she said. “I don’t always find them the most helpful because they can only warm up a part of me, but he’s so small I’m sure it’d work.”

“You can also make similar heat packs using rice and things,” Hilda said, “If you fill up a sock or sew a little pouch for it. My mum used to send me to bed with a warmed-up one that also had some nice-smelling herbs in it when I was little.”

“We can also work with what we have,” Frida said. “I'm sure we all have some scraps of flannel or another warm fabric, or nice, thick socks around that could be converted into blankets or sleeping bags of some kind. Maybe even lots of them.”

“Oh, I've got loads of old socks!”

“Ugh, _nice_ socks, David.”

“Oh, right.”

Hilda looked thoughtful. “He does actually ask for fabric scraps a lot when Mum and are doing crafts,” she said. “Perhaps I should have taken that as a sign he was cold a little sooner.”

“Do you think that’s what he’s using them for? Staying warm?” Frida asked

“Perhaps. I just thought he liked soft things.”

“Soft things _are_ pretty nice,” David said.

“Okay, subcategory,” Frida said, scribbling down more notes. “Things that are warm _and_ soft.”

“Mittens!”

“Fleece!”

“Scarves as well, actually.”

Frida looked thoughtful. “I’m certain we could put some little hand-warming packs inside all those and make them heated pillows or weighted blankets.”

“Hilda,” David said, looking down at his mug. “Do you have anything small that we could put cocoa for Alfur in. I think these mugs are a little... large.”

“One of his little thimbles!” Hilda said. “Yes, we absolutely ought to make him cocoa.”

“You know,” Frida said. “It’d probably also be sort of nice for him to lean up against even one of the large ones while there’s something heated in it. You know, just for warmth. Perhaps along with a blanket, or something like that.”

“Frida you’re marvelous at brainstorming,” Hilda said. “You as well David, these are all excellent ideas. I’ll ask Mum if we can implement any of them tonight.”

“I can donate some mittens,” David said. “I’ve got to keep buying new ones because I keep losing one of the hands. There are several very lonely ones that might be good to give him. And they’re much nicer than my socks.”

“You should probably also make sure to turn up your heating when you get home,” Frida said. “Unless you’ve already done that, but I imagine if the house is warmer in the first place it’ll be all the better for him.”

“Oh, we can’t do that,” Hilda said. “Not right now at least. The heating’s all broken. It was _freezing_ this morning.”

There was a moment of silence as Hilda noted that both of her friends stopped what they’d been doing -- jotting down notes in Frida’s case and fiddling with his hands in David’s -- and started staring at her.

“Hilda--” David said.

“--If the heat’s out at your house, and it’s very cold, where’s Alfur?” Frida finished.

“He’s still--” Hilda started, then stopped, realization dawning on her. She leapt to he feet.

“I’m a fool!” she said, hitting her head with the palm of her head. “I was so wrapped up in trying to figure out how we could help him, I never stopped to think that he probably needs an awful lot of help right now!”

“Hilda, it’s really cold out!” Frida said.

“I know it is! I’ve got to go get him!” Hilda said. “David, if I run back to my house, will it be alright if I find Alfur and bring him over here? Since it’s so much warmer?”

“Of course,” he said. “Maybe while you’re gone, Frida and I can set up so cozy things for him.”

“I’ll be right back!” Hilda said, already hurrying out of David’s bedroom. She pulled her winter coat around her as she dashed down the stairs and skidded towards the front door.

“Oh, Hilda!” his mother asked from the sofa where she’d been reading. “Is everything--?”

“Can’t talk, sorry!” she said, running to the door and flinging it open. The snow outside had intensified. “I forgot something really, _really_ important to me at home!”

 

***

 

When Hilda raced inside her family’s flat, the air was even colder than it had been when she’d left earlier that day. Not quite as cold as outside at least, but more than cold enough that her worry for her friend -- which was already quite intense -- got worse just upon crossing the threshhold. In her rush to get to her and Alfur’s room, where she thought it most likely for the elf to still be, she almost missed the note that was sitting on the kitchen table.

 _“Hilda,”_ she read aloud, fumbling with it with her still-mittened hands. _“The repairwoman says she won’t be in to fix our heating until later this afternoon, so I thought I’d head out and get a couple of space heaters while we have to wait. If you’re reading this, it means I haven’t gotten back yet. Stay warm! I’ll be back soon. Love, Mum”_

Tossing the note back onto the table, she continued on her single-minded quest.

“Alfur!” she shouted just before reaching the door to their room. “Alfur, where are you?”

There wasn’t any response and her heart twisted for a moment, sick with anxiety. Glancing around the space hurriedly, she didn’t note any signs of disturbance, save the ones she’d left herself in the rush to get dressed that morning. She narrowed her gaze towards the little clock home where the elf usually slept, and on occasion would hang out in even during the day, and eased the door open.

“Alfur?” she said. “Are you in there? Are you alright?”

Peering inside, at first she only noted a pile of assorted fabric scraps, with the occasional bit of other fluff or fleece tossed in, arranged in a fairly tidy-looking, despite its components, nest of sorts. But sure enough, after a moment if began to shift and sway, and it wasn’t all that long before a familiar tiny face emerged, pulling one of the larger pieces of fabric around himself like a cloak that concealed the rest of his form -- even his spindly little arms.

“Oh, hello Hilda!” he said, weakly, but still in his usual chipper tone. “You’re back!”

Little, tiny puffs of breath came along with the words, like a miniature fog, and while detecting the finer features of any of Alfur’s expressions or movements was always hard, and even harder with him all covered in his blankets, she could still tell he was violently shivering.

“Bit cold today, isn’t it?" he said. “I believe Mum’s out trying to find some kind of heaters.”

“Oh, Alfur, I’m so sorry!” Hilda said, the apology cascading out of her mouth in a sudden babble, like a waterfall set loose on a small stream.

There were tears pricking at the corner of her eyes -- partially out of relief, at knowing that she hadn’t let Alfur freeze, and that her mum must have been trying to take care of him, but also partially because seeing how cold he looked was making her feel awful. She could have prevented all of this.

“I’ve been over at David’s,” she said. “I should have taken you with me, seeing as his heat isn’t out! But we were plotting ways to try to keep you warmer this winter, and I so wanted it to be a surprise that I neglected to think about the smartest way to keep you warm right now, when it’s probably going to matter the most.”

“You were plotting to help _me?_ ” he asked. “Aren’t you worried about yourselves getting cold as well?”

“Well, a little,” she said. “But we’re so much bigger, and bigger people just don’t get as cold.”

“Does it really work that way?” Alfur said.

“We learned about it at school and everything,” Hilda said. “David and Frida were explaining it better to me today, because sometimes my attention drifts in class, but when you’re bigger you’ve got more body to generate heat.”

“Well, that hardly seems fair,” Alfur said, sounding a little miffed. He was still shivering. “You taller folk are already able to walk above the snow, it doesn’t seem like you should get all the advantages.”

“That’s why we wanted to help you out,” Hilda said. “Come on, I’m going to take you over to David’s -- there’ll be heating there, and cocoa, and you won’t have to shiver here all alone.”

“I’d like that,” Alfur said as she reached a hand up and started to scoop him into one of her mittens. “Mum was up here keeping me company for a bit, but she’s had to talk on the phone quite a lot today, and then she had to leave completely on her errand.”

Though she was always very grateful to her mother, Hilda made a mental note to thank her that evening for having clearly done her best to take care of Alfur even when she herself had forgotten. She took such good care of everyone.

“I’m so so sorry,” she said, apologizing again as she cupped Alfur in her mittens. It spilled from her lips almost without thought, she was so full of sincerity on the matter. “I was so wrapped up in the big picture that I didn’t even think about the small one -- the _very_ small one.”

Alfur, who’d brought one of his larger blankets with him and was wearing it draped over himself like a hood, curled into the side of one of her hands, looking even tinier than usual.

“It’s alright, Hilda,” he said. “What truly matters to me is knowing that you do care about things like this -- you’re a very dear friend, and it’s been worth it moving here to Trolberg because of that. I can weather a bit of a chill!”

“Oh, Alfur!” she said, bringing in her other mitten so that he was surrounded by the thick wool.

She lifted her hands to bring him up against her face, hoping that it would both warm him, and be the best approximation of a tight hug she could offer the tiny elf.

“You’re a very important friend to me, too,” she said. “That’s why I want to take care of you! I hope I can get better at it.”

Though it felt almost more like the touch of an eyelash, Hilda was accustomed to the gestures of her smallest friend, and noted that he had placed a tiny arm up against her cheek.

“You’re doing just fine,” He reassured. “Though perhaps… Did you say that we could head over to David’s home?”

When she looked closer at the elf, even wrapped up in his blanket and surrounded by her mittens as safely as she could cradle him, she noted he was still shivering an awful lot. He had closed his eyes, and was hugging himself tightly with his other arm, wrapped tightly in his little scrap of fleece.

“Yes!” she said, scooping him into her jacket pocket. “I’m sorry we’ve got to head out through the snow and things will get worse before they can get better, but if you’re willing to brave it we can set off on the journey immediately.”

“Doesn’t David live only a few blocks away?”

“It’s still an epic journey in weather like this,” Hilda said. “And besides, I think that transporting a frozen friend to safety qualifies as a quest under any sort of circumstances.”

“Then lead the way, brave adventurer!” came Alfur’s slightly muffled, tiny voice from her pocket. His head popped up for a view of the world outside of it a moment later, and he saluted, before shivering severely once more.

“You stay tucked in there,” she said sternly, pushing him back inside her pocket gently. “It’s snowing quite a lot. You’ll probably catch a cold, or the elf flu.”

“I can oblige that,” Alfur said, even more muffled than before. It made him awfully hard to hear, seeing as his voice was already so small.

Steeling herself in determination, Hilda narrowed her eyes and marched back into the kitchen. Grabbing a pen, she appended a note to the one her mother had left earlier.

 _Dear Mum,_ she wrote. _Ran back here to rescue Alfur from the awful cold. Don’t worry that he’s gone, I’m taking both of us back to David’s. I’m going to make sure that we’re both the toastiest we can possibly be. Love_ _, Hilda_

Once she’d finished the note, she took a deep breath and headed to the front door.

“Ready?’ she asked, placing a hand on the doorknob.

“Certainly, as long as you are!” came the reply from her coat pocket.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

She flung the door open, the act and emotion of it akin to ripping a band-aid off a wound that had healed enough to get rid of it, but still hurt nonetheless. Immediately, the world outside greeted her with a chilling gust of wind, fat snowflakes dancing on it as it hit her face. She shivered herself, and could only imagine how Alfur was feeling, even protected by her pocket. After all, she couldn’t zip it shut -- he needed to breath even more than he needed to be warm.

Though the ground was slick with snow, she set off in a run, the wind biting at her face as she headed in the opposite direction it wanted her too. She pulled her scarf up over her mouth and nose, hoping it would help protect them from the cold.

Visibility was growing awfully limited, but she nonetheless carried onwards, as swiftly as was possible through drifts the size of the ones that were piling up. It was far more tiring than just running to David’s on a non-wintery day, and after a block or two she stopped to catch her own breath, a commodity that the cold seemed intent on stealing in little puffs she could see in the air, resting a hand on her bent knees for a brief moment.

“Are you hanging in there?” she panted, putting a mitten to her pocket in a gentle gesture to cradle where Alfur was hiding from the freezing air.

“As much as can be expected!” came the strained reply.

Even through the layers of her coat, Hilda could feel Alfur shivering. Given the posittion of her upper pocket, it was right again her chest, at about the same area where she could feel her racing heart. She wondered if that was a comfort to Alfur -- it certainly seemed a bit symbolic to her.

“Alright,” she said, standing up straight once more, “Commencing the last dash. We’re almost there, I promise!”

Hilda took a deep breath and set off running once more. To maintain the speed, she had to leap over a few snowdrifts, but fortunately, she was quite nimble and the jumps were more of a thrill than an obstacle. Soon, David’s street was in view.

Unfortunately, in her single-minded determination, Hilda neglected to remember something important from the day prior that would certainly have helped her with successfully navigating her friend’s street. It was part bad luck, too, of course, but in the rush she managed to hit the same exact patch of ice, disguised under newly-fallen snow, that had cause David to slip so dramatically the day before.

Flailing her arms in the air, she had a brief moment where she thought she might be able to catch herself, but the ground was still out from under her, and as soon as the split second was over, she managed to plant herself -- and by inclusion, Alfur -- smack into the middle of a particularly large snowdrift as they fell.

Hilda pulled her face up out of the snow tiredly, already feeling the chill from the impact. She spit some snow out of her mouth and gently patted the pocket where Alfur was tucked away to ensure he was alright.

“Well,” she said, a bit grumpily. “That should perhaps have been expected, shouldn’t it?”

 

***

 

“Alright,” said Frida, reaching across the cardboard tiles laid out on the floor of David’s living room. “I’m going to move two spaces into the empty room to my right. Do I discover anything?”

“Hmm…” David said, fumbling with the large packet of rules that had come with the game. “I think that symbol means you found a clue about the identity of the murderer. Or perhaps about a ghost? I can’t tell”

“It’s entirely possible the murderer _is_ a ghost,” Hilda said, waggling her hands in the air in a menacing gesture. “The undead can’t be trusted, you know.”

The children were sitting on the floor, attempting to decipher the rules to Mystery House, a game that David had been given as a gift some time ago and not quite bothered to learn the ropes of yet because they were very complicated.

“I believe in a case of an ambiguous nature you’re intended to draw a card from the Discovery pack,” Alfur piped up, a bit sleepily.

The tiny elf was curled up under a makeshift blanket on top of another one that itself was in a warm hot water bottle, the entire combination situated snugly in Hilda’s lap. She patted him gently. He’d been invited to play his own character, of course, but he was awfully wiped out from the events of the day and seemed to be having more fun occasionally helping with complicated rules interpretations.

It had taken a fair while to warm Alfur up, especially given Hilda’s spectacular wipeout earlier that had gotten the two of them both covered in snow. Fortunately, Frida and David had been preparing to help the pair themselves, and surrounded Hilda and Alfur both in warm blankets on their entry back into the house, with warm cups -- or thimbles -- of cocoa in the queue for all four of the friends to enjoy not long after.

By this hour, it was fairly late in the evening, and Hilda was beginning to wonder how things were going back at home. She hoped her mum was alright, and that things would be sorted out soon enough that she’d be able to sleep in her own cozy bed that night. Every time she started to worry a bit about the situation though, she would gently squeeze Alfur -- a simultaneous hug and a tiny sort of stress relief. And every time, at least since he had started to warm up much more, he would send a smile her way. It made her feel nice, knowing that the two of them were so confidently there for each other.

“Well alright,” Frida said, grabbing a card from the deck. As she read it, she got an inrigued look on her face.

“Oooooooh,” she said, and David leaned over to try to peek at the card. She covered it up instantly, and scolded him

“Let me have my secrets, David!” she said.

“I just wanted to know if it’s a ghost murderer,” he said.

“Perhaps you’ll find out when I solve the mystery,” she said.

Hilda was about to chime in with her own friendly taunt about winning (which realistically, she had a decent chance of -- Alfur had been giving her occasional strategic advice, and she knew the elf was _very_ good at playing games) when there was a knock at the front door. David’s mother wandered in from the kitchen to answer it.

“Ah!” she said as she opened it “Johanna! Lovely to see you, though you must have made quite the trek in this weather. Come inside, please.”

“It is very chilly out, isn’t it?” Hilda’s mother said, stepping into the house and shaking the snow off her hat. “But I’m here to pick up Hilda and Al--llllso Hilda.”

“Hello, Mum!” Hilda called out cheerfully from where she was sitting. “Has the heating gotten fixed yet?”

“Yes!” her mother said, as David’s mum shut the door behind her. “The repairwoman finally made it out to our place and got things up and running.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay for a bit and warm up before setting out again,” David’s mother said. “We’ve been making a lot of cocoa today, would you like some?”

“Oh yes, please, that sounds lovely.”

“I’ll get started on another batch right away,” David’s mother said, heading back into the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable, make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

Hilda’s mother looked down at the children playing games on the floor, likely also noting Alfur’s little makeshift nest in Hilda’s lap. She smiled at the four of them.

“Now, what game is this?” she said settling down on the floor next to Hilda. She ruffled her hair affectionately.

“It’s called Mystery House!” David said brightly. “We have no idea how to play it!”

“We’ve got _some_ idea,” Frida said, a little indignantly.

“Hmm, can I join in? Perhaps I can take a look at the rules as well.”

“They’re intricate, I’ll give them that, but some of the phrasing is rather imprecise,” Alfur murmured from his place atop the hot water bottle.

“I’m glad to see you’re looking warmer, Alfur,” Hilda’s mother said, patting the elf herself. “Hilda did a very good thing bringing you here to keep you from catching a chill.”

“I still wish I’d thought to do it originally,” Hilda said a bit sadly. “I could have done it better if I I had.”

“Your intentions were still admirable,” Alfur said, yawning slightly -- which made Hilda and Frida giggle somewhat, as it was always a pretty adorable sound and sight. “Besides, I’m awfully cozy now!”

“Well,” Hilda’s mother said, wrapping an arm around her for a tight side hug. “That’s what really matters, isn’t it?”

Hilda looked around at her friends, everyone wrapped in nice blankets with discarded cocoa mugs at their sides, awaiting the next batch that was soon to come. They all had contented smiles on their faces, cards and game pieces scattered about. It really did seem like, despite her mistake, everything had turned out alright in the end.

“Yes,” she said, a smile creeping across her own face. “Seeing as we’re all here for each other, I really think it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to @scribefindegil for sort-of beta-ing a fair chunk of this story because I kept handing her my laptop from the other side of the couch and telling her that I had more elf words in Google Drive, and helping me talk through story points when I got stuck. Truly we're living the platonic roommate dream.
> 
> This fic brought to you by the Polar Vortex and the temperatures getting down to -52F with windchill in our state. That'd be a lot for a tiny elf to deal with.


End file.
